Horror Convention in Church?

I dream of being picketed.

Sometimes I think we confuse church with a building. The church I attend, The Dwelling Place, is hosting a gathering called “Continuing Conversations” (aka, Mo*Con II) on July 28-29th. It’s a daylong event where I have invited some horror writing friends of mine (Gary Braunbeck, Lucy Snyder, Brian Keene, Wrath James White) to come and speak. We’re going to talk about how our respective faiths impact our writing, the pursuit of being better writers, and even the impact of race when it comes to writing. Religion, art, and race - nothing too controversial.

Yes, it is a “convention” of horror writers. No, not all of us are Christian or even believe in God. That’s the point – all are welcome. So I thought I’d clarify a few points.

The chief complaint is “you can’t do that in a church.” Really? As a friend of mine said, “you may want to consider taking the toilets out cause that means folks are crapping in church, too.” What is church? The building we meet in is the old Marion County Health Department building. It is a building. There is nothing “sacred” about it until a sacred space is carved out … by the people. The church is people, not a building.

Church is a communal expression of faith, to pursue spiritual formation to be the kind of people God wants us to be. To be a safe place to ask and wrestle with spiritual questions. Whose mandate should include building a sense of community, loving each other, and serving the world, all in the name of Christ. Why can’t we carve out a sacred space with horror writers? If Sunday morning we talk about doubting God and discuss that reality, is the church not the best place to do it?

This is how we are working out being a missional community: us inviting people in and those people actually coming (and made to feel welcome). We get to see “their” world and they get to see “ours”. So feel free to protest.


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Diversity in Horror

So with the upcoming release of Whispers in the Night: Dark Dreams III, again the issue of what purpose does an anthology like this serve comes up. Granted, I wrote once about what the genre could learn from Dark Dreams, and that was before I was in the series. Now the issue comes up again as discussions in the genre blogosphere has turned to the topic of diversity within speculative fiction. Tobias Buckell, Angry Black Woman (aka K Tempest Bradford), Jay Lake, and Nick Mamatas have all weighed in already, and each of their blog entries is worth checking out - so what’s there left to add?


(You’ll have to go to Blogging in Black to find out)

In other column news, a couple of Intake columns from me: What is the Gospel Message? and Chuck E. Cheese Church.


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What is Horror?

Dear Drew,

Horror is an emotive element, but it is not a genre.

Horror is the existential dread in whose shadow we all live. It is the sum of the fears of our existence and the cathartic thrill of working through those fears. Horror is the via negativa or “the way of the negative.” In many ways, horror is like an Old Testament prophet illustrating the eventual path of a negative conclusion. Horror wrestles with the reality of evil and questions why bad things happen to people.

Horror is an exploration of our terrors, encompassing our fear of Death. Many times our fears come back to the fear of death, helplessness, loss, the after life, or God (or worse, the lack of God).

A friend, in telling me her plans about coming to Mo*Con II, wrote this:

"Comic-Con is fun. Mo*Con would be about something much deeper. I believe in deep. I live for deep. At this point I’m 90% sure I want to be with you guys to explore the relationship between what we write and what we believe. For me horror is the path to truth. It is about enlightenment. Did you know a study was done that people remember more through gross and horrific events than mundane or even emotionally charged events? I believe that horror can open that doorway and if you time your message just right you can convey something powerful and meaningful to your reader."

That’s the answer I would have given, to the question you were trying to ask at the World Horror Convention 2007, had that errant bottle of Knob Creek not been kicking both of our butts.

Love,

Maurice

P.S.

This could be some people’s idea of horror:




















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Mo*Con II: The Intersection of Faith, Race, and Art (Updated 4/5/07)

Yes, I'm doing it again.

Featuring Guests of Honor:
Wrath James White
Brian Keene
Gary Braunbeck & Lucy Snyder

with a very special guest appearance by Chesya Burke.
(seriously, she makes me do this sort of stuff)

The mission statement of the Dwelling Place states that we exist to help people resist empty ways of life by becoming fully human in the way of Jesus. We desire to be a refuge or sanctuary, a place of rest and freedom for people to be themselves, where we connect with God and one another by joining Jesus’ mission to bless the world. To that end, we believe art is an important part of who we are and should be valued.

Just as each one of us is a masterpiece in progress and creation is continuing in us, so we desire to keep generating new creative possibilities. We long to be students awakened to the process of learning to create in the way of the Master Artist, Jesus, who saw lilies, children, mustard sees, plowing, vineyards, and housework as indicators of a wider truth. Art is never for its own sake, but people’s sake. We believe that art should be engaged with and in its own way explores truth - and we shouldn’t be afraid of truth. Another thing we want to be is a safe place for folks to work our their spirituality and ask questions.

About continuing conversations. Which brings me to Wrath James White and Brian Keene and our continuing mission to test the boundaries of what we say we’re about.

Regular readers of my blog may be familiar with Wrath James White. He has guest blogged for me, I have reviewed him, and have interviewed him (part I and part II). His blog has opened up a new audience for him. And folks who know us or are aware of our blogs, style, politics, and personalities are stunned that the two of us are friends. I explain it to them in one word: respect. We don’t try to convert each other and we don’t have the arrogance of certainty about our positions. In a nutshell, we believe what we believe, we can argue why we believe, but we’re open to the possibility that we may not be right and are willing and able to listen and learn from each other.

Adding to the conversation will be Gary A. Braunbeck and Lucy A. Snyder. Those familiar with their backgrounds will know exactly why I want them added to the conversation (and note that I used the word conversation: Gary and I know better than to argue with Wrath and Lucy).

Keene’s determined to see us all go down in flames, serving as Moderator and general provocateur.

The overall weekend will look something like this:

Saturday, July 28th
The Dwelling Place
7440 N. Michigan Road
Indianapolis, IN 46268
Starts at 10:00 a.m.

Will feature discussions on faith perspectives, writers discussing their craft, and a book launch party for Dark Dreams III (that, coincidently, Wrath, Chesya, Lawana, and myself are in). Lunch will be hosted by the Indiana Horror Writers and (due to the amount of trash talk done at the 2007 World Horror Convention) will feature a chili cookoff between myself, Wrath, and John C. Hay. Dinner will feature authentic Jamaican cuisine.

Sunday
10:30 am - Dwelling Place Service
Will feature “sermons” by Brian Keene and Gary A. Braunbeck, followed by a Guest Farewell Luncheon.

Cost: Nothing. Donations appreciated.

Hotel Information
Here's the deal: I tried to schedule Mo*Con around the other major cons going on (sorry those going to the San Diego Comic Con instead). Unfortunately, I paid no attention to events going on in my own city, namely, the Brickyard 400. So hotels in the area are filling up fast. We however are using

Hampton Inn
7220 Woodland Drive
Indianapolis, IN 46278
(317) 290-1212 (or 1-800-HAMPTON)

Mention The Dwelling Place or Mo*Con when you book your room. Right now the rates are $199 + tax per night (two night minimum) full deposit required at time of booking (non-refundable after 5/28/07). If enough rooms are booked, the room rate will be discounted. We will also have a few spaces available at Chez Broaddus plus some members of our congregation are opening up their homes for some folks to stay at. They are going on a first come, first serve basis. If you have any questions, or need to be picked up from the airport, write your host at Maurice [at] MauriceBroaddus.com

Other confirmed guests include:
Wayne Allen Sallee, Steve Shrewsbury, Jason Sizemore, Debbie Kuhn, John C. Hay, Lawana Holland-Moore, Taylor Kent, Gary and Nancy Frank, Lauren David, Carrie Rapp, Tracy Jones, Steve Savile and Alethea Kontis. You can let me know if you are coming by leaving a note here.

Hosted by The Dwelling Place and the Indiana Horror Writers.

This page will be updated as more guests and details are confirmed.


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Horror and the Fear of the Lord

Have you written on the topic of the fear of God Himself related to horror? ... As a teen I read a lot of King's storytelling, thought some was trash and some powerful. More mysterious and powerful was H.P. Lovecraft of which I read some in undergrad ... I believe a great creative mind from a true biblical paradigm could do horror.

We are told to work out our salvation with fear and trembling (Philippians 2:12), yet we’ve rather lost the idea of what it means to have a fear of the Lord. To our modern minds, we have difficulty reconciling the ideas that if Jesus Christ is perfect love, then there is nothing to fear of the Most High (I think I understand the reasoning, if you look at salvation as a “legal transaction, with Christ taking the penalty for our sins onto Himself thus we have no judgment to fear). Or, because of the God is love/love casts out all fear (seeming) dichotomy, that somehow you can’t have faith and fear at the same time. I don’t believe that to be true. In fact, I want to look at the relationship between horror and a fear of the Lord.

At the root of what it means to “do” horror is the idea of fear. Part of the cathartic experience of horror is out exorcizing of some of the things that scare us, that shadow of fear that we live our lives under. Ultimately, horror is about the fear of death and horror is excited by the reality of evil. We fear for our lives and the lives of those we love. We live in fear of good being consumed by evil. Frankly, evil should be feared. Even with the full reality of Christ, we still live with the consequences of evil all around us. A mother killing her children. Religious fanatics blowing up buildings. We seek a context of understanding for that which makes no sense. A lot of what horror attempts to do is make sense of evil. Evil is irrational and uncontrollable; true acts of evil are so irrational that conspiracy theories make sense.

Matt Cardin, in the preface of his horror collection Divinations of the Deep, posits that “the deep”, the primordial chaos, can reveal much about God, ourselves, and the true nature of our reality.

“We encounter the deep, so they say, in the dark mysteries of life: in horror, pain, nightmare, disillusionment, and death, in places where light and reason seem to be absent, or to have only a precarious foothold; at the seams of the universe where sometimes a thread comes unraveled and a ray of darkness shines through, and the light does not overcome it. To seek such glimpses and to ask such questions is always dangerous, however, because we can never know in advance what form the answers will take.”

So it struck me the other day that maybe we’re too quick to sing I Stand in Awe of You in our worship times. We may sing it, but we don’t believe it. For one, we’ve lost our ability to be awed. Secondly, we’ve forgotten that God is a dangerous terror. We want a God we can control and understand. By losing the idea of what it means to have a fear of the Lord, we end up trivializing God. Fear and love are connected because when we lose the fear, we lose love. I’m speaking of a healthy fear, one rooted in how important that object is to us, how much the object of our fear/love means to us as well as how little we can control them; and how much we fear life without them.

Even though fear and love are interlinked in both the Old and New Testament, fear is often overlooked or undermined in much contemporary Christian spirituality. Evangelicals assume that fear is the opposite of love. They rarely consider that fear is the complement of love. Godly fear that complements love is not simply terror or a sense of profound awe. Fear arises from the perceived inability to control an existential object. For example, we fear a lion when no cage exists between the animal and ourselves. Without the bars of a cage, the lion is beyond our control.

We often sense, if not experience, and existential terror. A gnawing emptiness that claws at our souls. A darkness, the deep, that threatens to suck the joy for all aspects of our lives, that can lead to a spiraling sourness to life that makes us want to crawl into bed and never get out. Some philosophers call this a “God-sized hole” that we try to fill with all manner of distraction, from the pursuit of materialism and the trappings of success to family and relationships.

Yet the terror, the ache in our soul, remains.

Even should we turn to God, we sometimes find our spiritual walks dissatisfied, as if somewhere along the path we missed, or lost, something vital. Maybe that sense of “terror” or awe of seeking a relationship with something larger than we can conceive of with our finite minds, something beyond our measure and control. And we need to cling to it, working out our salvation in fear and trembling.

We must maintain and nurture a “delightful terror” and “trembling fascination” toward God. God is the ultimate existentially relevant object over which we have no control. God is absolute in this regard; there is no other reality more existentially relevant to our lives – no reality over which we have less control. For this reason, we must fear God in order to truly love God. We cannot control God, therefore we must fear God.

And live in light of that fear.


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Genre Fanfic, Genre Ghettos

I am not a fan of horror. I didn’t grow up reading it and to this day haven’t read a whole lot of it. The more time I spend in the genre, the more I feel like I’m playing catch up to even know the important works of what came before me. I am barely conversant with who my own peers are. Sometimes I think it was for the best.

There has been a lot of talk lately of horror ghettos and genre fanfic. It has finally crystallized something that has been bugging me about the stories and critiques I have been getting from some of the members of the various writers groups I belong to. They are fans of the genre, and by fans I mean they work and expectations can be fairly derivative, little more than fanfic appreciation.

The critical commentary and dialogue inherent in genre fiction–assessing and responding to the work of the previous generation–is absolutely necessary, yet it is just as necessary to provide points by which the mainstream can access genre. –Dave Klecha

While there isn’t anything wrong with fanfic unto itself, the legal and moral implications aside (I’m a recent convert to the position that it does serve some good and can be useful as a writing exercise), the genre can’t advance while chasing its own tail. What I suspect is going on is that there is a lot of trying to recreate the same stories/feelings “we” experienced when “we” first fell in love with the genre. However, chasing first loves is like chasing ghosts: dreams of what were, when in fact they never were.

The conventions of genre become mistaken for the content of the story ... The genre readers and writers become more locked into the conventions of the genre and the general readers become more put off by what they (rightly perceive) as a rigid and increasingly empty ritual dance of conventions. –Janrae Frank

Okay, a lot of this is re-hashing what I was saying on the “what is horror?” panel at Context 19 as I was griping about the lack of experimentation going on in the bulk of horror. We seem to be content to play with the tropes of what make up the “genre” as opposed to experimenting with what the genre can do and offer. Too often we go for the “boo” and too seldom examine our culture, our ideas, our spirituality in the language of the genre. So when Jay Lake posits that in science fiction “we consider ourselves the literature of ideas, and a repeated idea is much harder to make interesting,” the gauntlet should be thrown down for horror also. We too should be “heavily invested in permanent novelty-seeking.” That is, if we are truly interested in growing our pool of readers.

Believe me, that accusing finger points at me first. As does the challenge.


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World Fantasy Convention 2006 Report

Things I could write about: Why Northwest Airlines sucks (with every flight ended with “we apologize ... we hope to serve you better next time). My “white people I hate today” rant. My “I love me some guilty white liberals” rant. The “marionette” story. The “exploding cows” story. “I got a word of testimony” aka “can a brother get a witness?” aka the “Maurice is preaching, someone cut him off”incident. Or why when a British (literary) agent says “what goes in this drink again?” why you shouldn’t go ahead and drink it. Or two more after that. Or “why the hell is Jay Lake making us do the chicken dance?” Instead, I got to thinking about why we go to cons in the first place.

As a friend pointed out, cons are 72 hours of a bunch of introverts pretending to be extroverts. I don't know why I actually pay for WFC. Though I went to more panels and readings this year than last, all that means is that I went to one panel and one reading. The rest of the time, I, seriously, just hung out in the bar and talked to people. It's better that way because you know the “fans” are doing the panel/reading things and the pros are ... in the bar.

There’s a type of person I want to be and one I don’t want to become. It’s a fine tension we walk. On the one hand, going to cons is about business. You’re there to make connections, writers, agents, and editors. Schmoozing is part of the game, they know it, we know it.

However, there was a point at a dinner I attended when I had to leave because I thought I had crossed the line and became guilty of name-badging people. When I reduce people to “who are you?” “What can you do for me?” When I become strictly about the climb, strictly about my opportunities, then I’m one step from becoming one of those “stab them in the back, climb their corpse” sort of people.

Okay, it was probably a bit of an existential crash that comes while recovering from a night of “incidents” or the “what am I doing here/I’m a complete fraud” angst most writers go through. On the flip side, I was also reminded about why I truly come to these things. Commiserating with family–like John Hay, Alice Henderson, or Bill Gagliani–as we work through our collective writers’ issues. The growing that comes from having friends like Christopher Fulbright, Angeline Hawkes, and Matt Cardin check your faith. Meeting new friends like Laird Barron, Darren Speegle, Shannan Palma. Seeing old ones like Wayne Allen Sallee, the Night Shade guys, She Who Shall Not Be Named, Lee Thomas, Nick Kaufmann, Tim Waggoner, or Catherynne M. Valente.

Of course, no one’s motives are perfectly pure. We are there to network and I talked to my share of agents and editors and have a lot of work to do over the next few months. I just don’t want to forget that cons are also about building relationships, comradery, recharging, and the creative frisson that comes with being with your tribe. That’s what is so reinvigorating about cons.

Now I have to go get some more rest. Monday came awfully early today.


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Slither Redux

The movie Slither comes out today on DVD. Here's my review that came out when the movie was released for which I got this note from the director:

I truly loved your interpretation of Slither, with the gospel included. You really aren't so far off of where I was coming from. Thanks!

Best, james gunn

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Snakes on a Plane

This hasn’t been the summer for great movies. I’m beaten down, tired of searching. I’m giving up. I’ve been accused of “losing touch” with what makes for a good movie (and you critics can just bite me: Underworld: Evolution was not a good movie). Every now and then, however, I will gleefully settle for popcorn movie junk. Yes, sometimes it’s the little things that make me happy. Little plot. Little acting. Little directorial sense. And yet, I’m a happy man.

Snakes on a Plane is not a movie destined for Oscar consideration. It is what it is and doesn’t pretend to be anything else. Let me boil down the carefully constructed plot for those unaware: there are snakes. They’re on a plane. In one of my favorite bits of dialogue, the bad guy explains that he has obviously exhausted every other option. [This is why black people talk in movies. I mean, really? You’ve really exhausted every other option? How many plans do you have to go through--follow me now, cause I don’t think you hear me--how many plans do you have to go through before you get to snakes on a plane? Don’t make me start having church on you in the middle of this review.]

The interest in the final movie product is the culmination of an Internet hype fest. Various web sites, from snakes on a blog to the one that allowed a friend of mine to have Samuel L. Jackson call me and tell me why I need to go see this movie. - the campaign has built a special level of buzz for a, at best, B-movie. Sadly, it may usher in a new era of Internet marketing.

Ever since Amos and Andrew, I’ve been leading a campaign calling for both Nicholas Cage and Samuel L. Jackson to fire their agents. However, I’ve come to realize that they are both nerds are heart. They love to do the occasional genre piece (Nicholas Cage has been rumored for the lead role in just about every super-hero movie in development; and who didn’t hear of how hard Samuel L. Jackson lobbied to be in the Star Wars prequel trilogy?). They simply can’t help themselves.

Samuel L. Jackson has come a long way. He was the “lone brotha sent down the long dark hallway by himself” in Jurassic Park, he was swallowed in mid-rallying speech in Deep Blue Sea (which, fun crap movie aside, still ranks as one of the best death scenes ever), and now he’s staring in his own horror flick. He still pulls off playing the action hero at his age, coasting on the power of his badass persona.

Jackson’s at least is having fun, while many others seem to be walking through the movie, except for Julianna Margulies, who is also no stranger to the occasional odd genre project (The Mists of Avalon, Ghost Ship). To be fair, this may be because they don’t have much to work with. We’re here to see snakes on a plane, not someone attempting their Oscar turn. What we’re left with are stock characters-cum-fodder: a cop partner about to retire; a flight attendants last flight (the equivalent of a cop partner about to retire); a newlywed couple, one of whom is an uneasy flyer; a high maintenance rapper; a high maintenance businessman; and a high maintenance rich girl. Not to mention the “plot” machinations of the “plan”: a criminal boss has to eliminate a witness to him murdering a prosecutor. In other words, a lot of set up, as if it mattered. All the dialogue and “characterization” felt every bit the time filler until the snakes are set loose. The whole film had an ad hoc sense to it, as scenes and dialogue were obviously added in (you can practically see the seams in the movie).

“Do as I say, you live.” –Neville Flynn (Samuel L. Jackson)

At first the snakes seem to follow the rules of horror deconstructed in the Scream movies, going after “sinners” (such as the promiscuous couple) like an Old Testament plague. Now would be the time when I would ordinarily delve into an excursus into the iconic nature of serpents in the Christian story. From the serpent in the garden of Eden, to Moses in Pharaoh’s court and with the nation of Israel, to how Christ came to crush the head of the serpent under his heel. However, seriously, this is Snakes on a Plane. Even for me that would be a stretch.

“It’s all about choices we make.” –Neville Flynn

I could almost make the case that the overall truth of the movie is how we have a responsibility to the truth. The truth sometimes requires sacrifice; doing the right thing isn’t always easy. The prosecutor dies, his “noble gesture”, due to his commitment to the truth and seeing justice done. The witness (Nathan Phillips) has to learn to stand up and do the right thing in light of the truth.

This would be two spiritual touchstones to discuss about this movie ... if you actually decided to turn on your brain for this one. I mean, do I have to remind you? Snakes on a Plane.

Snakes on a Plane is a jump-fest and even though you know it is and the jumps are predictable, you jump nonetheless. Well, I did anyway. Not since Showgirls (yeah, I said it) have I seen a movie so bad it was cheesily good.


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Stephen King’s Desperation

It always kills me when people say that they don’t read Stephen King (or horror in general, for that matter) because they “know” that it’s all blood and gore with no redeeming value. They forget, or are unaware of the fact, that he also wrote the stories that became the movies Stand By Me, The Green Mile, and The Shawshank Redemption.

As I’ve been watching the television series Stephen King’s Nightmares and Dreamscapes, I was struck by how hit and miss the series was. Granted, it was a hit and miss collection, but some stories that worked well on the page didn’t translate especially well to the small screen. Which stands in stark contrast to the adaptation of his book, Desperation. The problem could simply be a matter of scale: sometimes it’s easier to whittle a novel down to a three hour television movie than stretch a short story out to an hour. Mick Garris and Steve Weber must have it in their contracts that they are obligated to be a part of every Stephen King adaptation. However, like most Stephen King productions, the movie starts out great and then fades (in this case, the fade begins once Ron Perlman’s over the top hamming exits the movie).

In terms of plot, the story is fairly straight forward: Desperation, Nevada is a small, rural town run by an insane sheriff, Collie Etragian (Ron Perlman). The sheriff has lured in and trapped passing tourists, terrorizing them, as part of his homicidal spree. Ordinarily, this would be the standard escape from the madman thrill ride, however, King decides to do a deliberate meditation on the age old idea of spirituality as a means to defeat evil. This trick is troublesome to pull off: you don’t want the characters pontifications to get in the way of the atmosphere/story. It doesn’t quite work here either, but it does give us plenty of fodder to mull over.

“Faith isn’t just believing in God, but believing God is sane.” –Davey

One of the captured tourists is a young boy, David “Davey” (bringing to mind the old Davey and Goliath cartoon) Carver, who had recently come into a special relationship with God. The nature of his faith is fleshed out more (and better) in the book. In the television movie, Davey’s faith is presented as a bargaining sort of faith, one barely tested. His friend was dying, Davey prays, and a miracle happens and his friend is healed. “Heal my friend and I’ll do your will” - which isn’t the sort of relationship I would want to have with anyone - plays to how too many relate to God: as some sort of cosmic genie to be bartered with. However, the main theme is how that faith is tested and sustained, not the most common plot to be found in a horror movie.

Davey: “Why are you here?”
Pie: “For the same reason we all are: to love God and serve him.”
Davey: “What am I supposed to do?”

We have choices. We have regrets. “Good old free will” as Davey puts it. Our faith can be inwardly focused, about ourselves, our walks, getting our butt into heaven; where spiritual growth is defined by how deep/vast your Bible knowledge is, how active you are in church related activities and how many people you had led to Christ. Or our spiritual journeys can be outwardly focused, about being a blessing to others. This doesn’t have to be an either/or proposition, but too often this is how it plays out. Ideally, like Davey, we ought to be moved to action, to love others because we are so loved - a faith that reaches beyond ourselves into the lives of those around us.

Mary: “So, what’s the plan?”
Davey: “We do what God tells us to do ... we ought to pray.”

We often wrestle with the problem of evil, whether it is in the form of nature going awry or in the form of the evil we do to one another (though not as often, we face people possessed by extra-dimensional evil). So the issue that people of faith have to deal with (and the most asked question people “outside” of that faith have for them) is trying to figure out God’s will in the face of evil: how God allows evil, senseless violence, to land on the innocent. So most times, my best theological answer to many questions is “I don’t know,” but the questions are worth struggling with and working through. Honestly, what answer would satisfy you? That is why I question the value of such exercises a lot of the time and choose to tread the road of mystery. Some things can’t be taught, they have to be lived. No amount speculation will comfort those truly suffering (nor will the most rational or well framed argument win an “unbeliever”). Some questions have no answers, at least not here and not now.

Yet, He seems to bring people together to do good in the face of evil. There seems to be a plan that we can’t always see. In the shadow of the big showdown with the ultimate evil, the band of survivors recite the Lord’s Prayer. The power of prayer in the face of evil serves to calm them as they seek God’s will; to maintain communication with Him which in itself draws them closer to Him. To trust in Him even when they don’t understand His ways.

That’s faith.

Our faith gives us hope, and in light of that hope, we act. We draw near to the suffering, continue to ask “why?”, and then act in compassion. That is our response to how could God allow this: be the arms of God in comforting the victims of suffering.

Davey: Sometimes God is cruel.
John Edward Marinville: What good is he then? He wants us to love him and serve him, right?

In the last couple hundred years, the image of God as both good and severe, a God that fit readily into our (Old Testament kind of) paradigm, was gradually replaced with that of a one-dimensional, only-good God. The whole God = Love, as in Love is the only dimension of who He is, has its own set of problems. So of course people couldn’t reconcile how a supposedly good God allowed horrible things to happen, especially to the most innocent among us.

We forget that God is also holy. And, like Aslan, the lion from C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia, we need the occasional reminder that there is a (righteous) fearful element to holiness. “Make sure you stay alert to these qualities of gentle kindness and ruthless severity that exist side by side in God” (Romans 11:22a, The Message version).

That said, the reality is that God is also love, even in the face of tragedy. Sometimes faith seems crazy. The movie does little more than toss out platitudes, never truly engaging the topic of faith in light of evil. However, as Stephen King’s theme alludes to, we are either in a state of faith or a state of Desperation. And Desperation is no where to be.


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The Omen

Craptastic.

WARNING: Do not watch Richard Donner’s original version of The Omen in preparation to see the remake. This smacks of the ill-conceived executive decision to remake classics (say, Hitchcock’s Psycho) by simply shooting the same movie with modern technology. At the very least, we are decades removed from the cultural context of the original, different times with different sensibilities. Tthrowing in tsunami and 9/11 references is typical of the cosmetic changes this version makes to the original.

The premise is rife with creepy sensationalism: the child of the devil is let loose on earth. With our culture’s fascination with all things apocalyptic and conspiratorial, from Left Behind to The Da Vinci Code, The Omen (cleverly released on 6/6/06 - note that I didn’t make the easy joke of “suck/suck/suck”) tries to capitalize as the right movie at the right time. It fails.

The problems for the movie begin early on with the casting of very young leads, Liev Schreiber and Julia Stiles, as the unfortunate parents, Robert and Katherine Thorn. Liev Schreiber essentially walks through the movie. Julia Stiles (The Bourne Supremacy, Save the Last Dance) has a yeoman’s task in the thankless role of Katherine Thorn, given little more to emote than “I love my son,” “Things are weird,” and “I’m afraid of my son.” The fact of the matter, however, is that there are no characters you care about in the movie. An ironically cherub-faced Seamus Davey-Fitzpatrick, who seems to have never slept, gives a suitably blank stared performance as Damien. (Sadly, my favorite character was the boom mike that kept making it into half the scenes of our print of the movie, although) Mia Farrow, who knows from horror turns as the star of Rosemary’s Baby, is marvelously sinister as the replacement nanny, Mrs. Baylock.

Director John Moore, while doing an essentially shot for shot remake, still doesn’t seem to know what sort of movie he wanted to make. It was as if he took the tropes of a modern horror movie (add boo moments here, sprinkle in a few creepy images, then shake the camera randomly because now we’re having “action!”). Maybe this might have worked a few decades ago, but in a media-saturated age where horror movies from Hellraiser to The Ring have certainly raised the bar. The Omen degenerates into a slow moving version of National Treasure, forgetting that it’s the little things that make for a moody, atmospheric horror movie. Even the score detracts from what should have been the prevailing mood of dread, instead aspiring to an adventure thriller.

When the Jews return to Zion
And a comet fills the sky
The Holy Roman Empire rises
And you and I must die
From the eternal sea he rises
Creating armies on either shore
Turning man against his brother
Till man exists no more

You would think that a movie about the anti-Christ would be rich with theological touchstones. Granted, the perspective is from the school of theology that brought us the aforementioned Left Behind series. However, rather than explore what the significance of Damien as the anti-Christ means, Damien is portrayed as little more than a spiritualized Chuckie. The movie doesn’t bother to explore the mythos of the anti-Christ, choosing instead to count on the public’s awareness that “666" is bad and saying that he’s the son of the devil and leaving it at that. There is no context to provide any true chills.

The movie begins with a lie, a conspiracy of clergy (“Give your love to the living”Father Spiletto (Giovanni Lombardo Radice) entreats the grieving Robert Thorn and with Father Brennan (Pete Postlethwaite) motivated by wanting to be saved by Christ for his role in the events) and well-intentioned but still deceptive husband, Robert Thorn. The Omen almost explore’s Robert Thorn’s search for faith. “I know how you feel” he remarks to Damien, noting his son’s unease when they pass a church. Robert Thorn is left with an Abrahamic dilemma of killing his own son (against the familiar philosophical scenario of if you had the chance to kill Hitler as an infant, would you?) even as Damien’s anti-Messianic consciousness quickly develops.

“For only when He is within you can you defeat the devil’s son.” –Father Brennan

The Omen counts on the type of mindset that spends its time in endless speculation about the identity of the anti-Christ and the minutiae of the Biblical end times. My eschatology is simple: Jesus Christ will return. What this will look like, I don’t know. The point isn’t to fret about the details of how or treat the book of Revelation similar to the work of Nostradamus. Nor is the point to paint scary scenarios in the hope of scaring people into heaven. I think that the point is to make sure that I join with God in His mission to be a blessing to the world while I am here.

“Something’s not right.” –Katherine Thorn

The Omen strains too hard, both staying too faithful to and being too self-conscious of the original. The movie goes for the easy jump scenes rather than a building a brooding intense creepfest, too reminiscent of Final Destination 3 than atmospheric chiller. The ending particularly breaks down into utter and complete nonsense due to its poor pacing and story-telling. A remake of a movie regarded as a horror classic should offer a new perspective, instead we have this.

Suck-tacular.


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Slither

“This shit’s about as far from God as shit can get.” –Mayor Jack MacReady (Gregg Henry)

Sorry to start you off with that blast, but it pretty much sets the tone for this movie. Let me preface this review by stating that I can’t believe that I found the Gospel message in this movie. A mix of Invasion of the Body Snatchers, the Evil Dead movies, and any of a number of zombie movies, Slithers covers some well worn territory, yet stands poised to become a cult hit. With a mix of effective action and gross out titillation, it wasn’t a bad little movie.

Reminiscent of Troma films (convenient since director James Gunn is a Troma alum), Lovecraftian monsters (well, those of the squiddy variety), and hentai comics (let’s leave it at the movie is filled with phallic imagery), the movie ostensibly sets its plot against the backdrop of Darwin’s theory of the survival of the fittest. Posing the existentialist issue of how man would handle a challenge to his dominion and place in the created order, enter the extraterrestrial slug creatures (because pods are so passe). With these bloated slugs using people as “skin cars,” our intrepid band of heroes–Starla Grant (Elizabeth Banks, 40 Year Old Virgin) and Sheriff Bill Pardy (Nathan Fillion, Serenity - aptly filling the Bruce Campbell role in the movie)–manage to stay one step ahead of extraterrestrial slugs going down their throats and all manner of spewed goo. All choreographed with an enthusiastic zeal.

Like many old school horror films, Slither seems to have a moral core at its center. Grant Grant (Michael Rooker), the possessive husband tempted by the possibility of adultery, is the first to encounter the alien and is punished by becoming its primary host. Brenda (Brenda James), the temptress, is punished by becoming the breeder of the alien host. Much of the plot, in turn, revolves around the credo “marriage is a sacred bond” (as an aside, when I saw Hellraiser II, I remember thinking that while I may not ask much of a potential spouse, having skin is one of the requirements. When watching Slither, I couldn’t help but think that my spouse being turned into a blob-like creature with tentacles has to be a reasonable ground for divorce).

Slither, while not specifically using zombies, does make use of the imagery of the zombie trope (eating raw meat instead of brains). These creatures portray a resurrection to walking death. They are the living dead, with no hope, only the eternal existence in a “body of death” (Romans 7:24). They are particular reminders that there are worse things than death. Which leads me to the question of how the Gospel is found in this movie.

“How can you blame someone for acting according to their own nature?” –Grant Grant

Let’s start at the beginning. Grant Grant is the first man–the Adam, if you will–introducing the worms to humanity. Through Grant comes death. In this way, the worms are like the nature of sin, an infection that spreads and grows almost like a conscious disease. Because of the introduction of sin, the created order is disrupted, neither humanity (once infected with sin) nor creation are as they are meant to be. There is disharmony between each person and themselves (their bodies are not their own, not doing what they know to be right), disharmony between each person with each other person, disharmony between humanity and creation (even the animals are different), and ultimately, disharmony between them and God (symbolized as even the clergy of the day are infected). The center of the conscious, this sin that has lead to a cycle of death and depravity, has to be crushed.

“Jesus saves.” –sign reflected during the film

Enter Bill, as a Christ figure (the second Adam in theological language). Through Bill comes life, but that life is purchased at a cost. Bill has to absorb the infection into himself, his side literally pierced for humanity’s sake. By taking the infection onto himself, he ultimately is able to triumph over it. Bill frees everyone from the tyranny of the worms. How does Christ save? He cleanses the infection of sin and by proxy, reorders creation and brings man back to unity with God. That work is done, it’s only a matter of whether humanity chooses to see it.

Look, I’m not going to lie to you: Slither isn’t for everyone. This movie is often gross, violent, and has a dark sensibilities about it. There are no surprises here - you know from the trailers/commercials what kind of movie this is. Once you get into the over-the-top spirit of the movie, well, scratch that - you have to get into the spirit of the movie to enjoy it. Slithers is a B-movie thrill ride that doesn’t aim to be anything more than that. The movie works because it doesn’t take itself seriously, enjoys itself, and is darkly comic. It’s infectious that way.


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Final Destination 3

Final Destination 3 continues the movie franchise which also happens to serve as the latest incarnation of the slasher film sub-genre of horror movie. Franchises like Friday the 13th, Halloween, Nightmare on Elm Street and, more importantly, their derivative knock offs are the kinds of empty story-telling people think of when they think of horror. In this case, the killer isn’t some madman in a mask, or a dream stalking terror, but Death itself wielding coincidence and circumstance as its weapons.

Written by Glen Morgan and James Wong (writers from The X-Files, Space: Above and Beyond, and Millennium)–James Wong also directed the movie–you have to wonder if they have exhausted the possibilities of the franchise. More remake than sequel, as these types of franchises usually are, the movie sticks to the formula that made the original a success. Final Destination 3 delivers more of what the audience has come to expect from these movies. Don’t get me wrong, what it does it does quite effectively, there’s just not much of an actual story; more like a premise.

The movie opens with the “what’s going to happen” premonition (always the highlight sequence of sheer terror and brutality). Whoever has the premonition avoids death along with several compatriots. Then death proceeds to stalk the survivors–in the order in which they would have died originally–in a series of creative and vicious deaths. Each death is felt–and whether intentional or not--reveled in. The audience becomes gleeful participants as they watch the movie by being invited to play the “how are they going to die” game. Sadly, the movie doesn’t give us characters to care about, but rather interchangeable caricatures that exist to be fodder: the Goth-lite duo, the token black (jock), the smart chick with not quite dumb guy, and the preening girls. One barely gets a sense of the lead character, just enough to almost care what happens to her.


I’ve been in an on-going conversation with my fellow Hollywood Jesus reviewer, Chris Utley, over my theology of horror article. I suspect that movies like Final Destination 3 are what he has in mind when he says “if I do see a horror film, it's only to glory in the ingenious methods in which the filmmakers off the characters.” Hopefully, murders/killings, no matter how inventive, should evoke a sense of horror, revulsion, and sadness in us. The evil presented in such films should move us to confront it where we find it and seek out redemption from it. Once we distance ourselves from the more objectionable elements of the story, we still have a story that has to be dealt/wrestled with. Sometimes, that is easier said than done, however, even Final Destination 3 gives us to plenty to wrestle with.

“It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of every man; the living should take this to heart.” –Ecclesiastes 7:2

Horror is about fear and as Wendy (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) puts it, “Fear is like a living thing. Always with me.” While this fear may stem, as her boyfriend put it, “from your sense of having no control,”ultimately what we are afraid of is death. Another strength of horror movies is that they force us to meditate on our mortality. In fact, the fear of death fuels horror. The one spiritual point that cannot be evaded is the fact that we are forced to confront the reality, and seeming randomness of death. One character bemoans the unfairness and sheer capriciousness of death, as these young people die while others who do great evil live such long lives.

There is a wisdom that comes from contemplating death. The reality of death forces our main heroine to re-evaluate her life as to what is truly important, such as her relationship with her sister. With the idea of one’s impending mortality, the characters try to look for some sort of spiritual meaning to it all. At which point, the characters have to wrestle with whether they want to remain in a state of willful ignorance as to the reality of their situation.

"Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?" –I Corinthians 15:55

While the Devil’s Flight roller coaster ride intones that “you can run but you can’t hide” and “this is the beginning of the end.” we have to ask the question “is Death really the end?” The title Final Destination hints that death may be our ultimate destination, the great nothing that awaits us all. The fact of the matter is that death isn’t the end. Another one of the great things about horror movies is that we, or at least the characters in the movie if they have any depth to them whatsoever, have to deal with the question of “what happens after death?” What is our Final Destination?

“He will swallow up death forever. The Sovereign LORD will wipe away the tears from all faces; he will remove the disgrace of his people from all the earth. The LORD has spoken.” --Isaiah 25:8

The ironic thing is that the object of the movie is for the characters to beat death. The one enemy that can’t be beaten and can’t be thwarted, at least not by running from it or trying to out-maneuver it. One of the internal rules of the movie is that if someone intervenes, if someone saves the next to die, the person fated to die can be skipped by death. As the Goth-lite male points out, only an act of self-sacrifice can thwart Death’s plan. Though Death is an enemy that stalks us, the movie’s theme echoes one presented in the Bible: that Death has been already overcome by the sacrificial death of Christ.

My reminder take home lesson from watching Underworld: Evolution is that watching movies is an expectations game. If you lower your expectations and enjoy this movie for what it is, you’re sure to have your expectations met. Both movies also remind us that any story, however slight that story may be, can be wrestled with. In Final Destination 3, Death inadvertently becomes something to be laughed at, our “whistling as we pass the cemetery” reaction to dealing with the idea of death. The movie literally presents dying as entertainment; a roller coaster thrill ride that entertains by killing people. The movie is what it is, without pretension or aspiration to anything greater. The death scenes in this movie franchise are some of the most creative ever filmed and ultimately, that’s what the audience wants to see: campy fun with top notch gore. If you enjoy the Final Destination movies, then you have more of what you came for ... with different faces.

Underworld: Evolution

One of the first movies that my wife convinced me to take her to when we were dating was Scary Movie. She thought it looked funny, I wanted to please her, so I paid what few hard earned dollars I had for us to spend an evening at the movies. It turned out to be a cinematic experience so miserable that she apologized to me afterward. After seeing Underworld: Evolution, someone owes me an apology.

I want two hours of my life back.

I’m now convinced that I’m going to be on my deathbed, re-tracing my life, and I’m going to remember that I once sat through Carnosaur 2 and Underworld: Evolution. And frankly, there were enough unanswered questions from the first Carnosaur to justify me watching the second - at least compared to trying to justify Underworld: Evolution. Having seen the first Underworld, it’s not like I expected a whole lot: Kate Beckinsdale, as Selene the Death Dealer, running around in a tight leather outfit shooting a lot of bullets at monsters. That, by the way, is a better plot summary than the barely one step above a video game’s thing that passed for a screenplay. Before you ask why I went to see this in the first place, sequels of these type of cult movies tend to be better than the original. They tend to up the action quotient, deepen the mythology, create more of a thrill ride, and possibly–possibly–even become a director’s franchise. Not so here.

I want two hours of my life back.

Underworld: Evolution picks up after the ending credits of the first Underworld. So we are in the midst of this overly-Machiavellian, grand conspiracy/war between the lycans (werewolves) and the vampires. [This is basically a story set in the White Wolf gaming company’s Vampyre (the basis of the television series Kindred: The Embraced) and Werewolf games universe, but the uninitiated is not supposed to notice.] The movie was relentless action with no point. The frenetic direction mostly illustrated director Len Wiseman’s love of things crashing through walls. The action literally stopped long enough for gratuitous sex scenes or the one bit of exposition that supposedly explained why everyone was running around shooting and otherwise trying to maim one another. Yes, I said gratuitous, because the randomness of it, like the rest of the movie, made no sense. Sadly, I kept waiting fo the movie to start making sense, but by the time it did, I no longer cared.

Vampires represent a resurrection to darkness. In vampires you see the perversion of the idea of blood being necessary for eternal life. Underworld: Evolution continues in the Postmodern era’s tradition of distancing itself from the religious elements of vampire mythology, though sunlight is still an effective weapon against vampires and blood is still essential for the transmission of what they are as well as their reason for being immortal. The lure of vampires, from the original to Anne Rice’s depiction of them, has been their seductive underside. Vampires seem more free, civilized, almost aristocratic; frankly, they have been over-Romanticized.. Werewolves, by comparison, are savage. Beasts reminding us that we have a corrupted self inside us. A side, a nature, in us that we must tame, restrain, or kill.

“Therefore, just as sin entered the world through one man, and death through sin, and in this way death came to all men, because all sinned” Romans 5:12

“The journey to the truth” is through the blood, Marcus said. Echos of the story of Christ reverberate through this movie. SPOILER WARNING (I think. Who knows if I’ve even grasped the plot fully): Much of the movie revolves around the search for Alexander Corvinus (Derek Jacobi, a long way from his I, Claudius days), who is essentially the “Adam” (the first) of the vampire and werewolf clans. He is the father to twin sons, Marcus (Tony Curran), the original vampire; and William (Brian Steele), the original werewolf. Yet, despite the evil his sons immediately inflict on the world, he cannot bring himself to destroy them.

“For since death came through a man, the resurrection of the dead comes also through a man. For as in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive.” I Corinthians 15:21-22

Selene and Michael Corvin (Scott Speedman as the half-breed or hybrid rescued from the first Underworld) represent the future. The “second Adam,” much like what Christ did, takes on the traits of the first–takes on his very nature–but lives the life meant to be lived. In effect, the second Adam redeems the life and sin of the first. Through facing temptation, through trials, even through a death and resurrection (including an “ascension” in to (sun) light), the lives of the second Adams provide the example for others to follow.

I’m still wondering how a movie full of vampires, werewolves, non-stop action, and a leather-clad Kate Beckinsale sucked so badly. Though I am tempted to make a list of the things I could have done instead of watching this movie, I will concentrate on the themes drawn out of the movie. Though even the echoes of the story of redemption are not enough to save this movie.

A Chat with J.N. Williamson

Our local branch of the HWA, the Indiana Horror Writers, got wind that long time horror writer Jerry (J.N.) Williamson was in a nursing home and decided to make paying him regular visits a part of what we want to do. As we entered the Riverwalk Village, I was immediately reminded why I have set two horror short stories in a nursing home. A couple of us had either worked in a nursing home or had close relatives in a nursing home, so we kind of knew what we were getting into.

The posture that I tend to assume, without trying to sound like a suckass (probably not the best theological term), is that as someone relatively new to the genre, I pay attention to people who have been doing it longer than I have. Plus, I was raised to listen to and respect my elders. Granted, none of us had ever met Jerry Williamson before (um, nor was he expecting us), and I was only passingly familiar with some of his work. We didn’t know what to expect from him. We needn’t have worried.

He greeted us like we were family popping in for a visit. Since I wasn’t there to interview him, I won’t report things like this was one, but I will sum up some of our conversation.

How long have you been writing?
For about fifty years. I always loved to write, but it got easier once I got myself into a routine.

How did you get interested in horror?
Through a movie called The Omen. I thought that I could do a better job of creating a situation where a group of people would be threatened by something else.

He wanted to know who some of the people we enjoyed reading were. One of our members said Peter Straub, citing his novel Ghost Story.
Peter Straub is one of the best writers in the business. Ghost Story is one of the finest ghost novels ever written. (I mentioned a few names that I was currently into, to which Jerry responded, “don’t stick with those guys too long.”)

Which led into his doling out advice to us new, up-coming writers.
I don’t like writers who criticize other writers or make a name for themselves by ripping another to pieces. Though I’d done it in my time to people I couldn’t stand. And you’ve got to be knowledgeable about your field. I’m glad to see lady writers making it in horror writing. I love the different perspectives. You’re entitled to write whatever damn thing you feel like writing. There’s no reason to not try and be the best writer you can be.

Who are some of your favorite writers?
Robert R. McCammon. He does his homework thoroughly and has worked at becoming a better and better writer. And it shows. (Okay, one of our members mentioned that McCammon was sweet looking in his author’s photo, to which Jerry quipped that “he wears it well.”)

The great Charles Beaumont. Always prolific, he wrote for Twilight Zone. A darn shame about his passing. Richard Matheson. I never read anything by him that I didn’t like. He has a firm finger on the reader’s pulse. Fredric Brown. He wrote exciting novels and exciting short stories, and odd horror stories. He had so many ideas. Obviously, I’m a fan of the writers that I invited into my Masques anthologies. All are top notch pros who should be read more.

Then this was given to me as a homework assignment. I’m to go out, read the anthology and report back on what I thought of the writers and stories. After checking out the table of contents, I’ll probably end up picking up Masques 2 also. This really was turning into quite the lesson for me.

He then turned his attentions to some of his favorites in the industry.
Tracy Knight. Mort Castle is a friend of mine. He knows writing as well as anyone I’ve ever met. He knows it and respects it. He’s a jewel. If you pay attention to Mort, you will sell a story or know why you haven’t. Gary Braunbeck. If you write well, he’ll get behind you and push. I said about one of his novels that he’d written one of the finest novels that I’ve ever read in my fifty years. He’s one of the nicest guys that I’d ever met. (Then he commenced to tell tales on Gary. If you want to hear them, you have to go see Jerry). You have to read Castle and Braunbeck.

(Okay, he admitted that he, Tracy, Mort, and Gary form a bit of a mutual admiration society, but that didn’t make his feelings any less genuine.) At this point, I gave him a copy of From the Borderlands, and raved about Gary A. Braunbeck’s “Rami Temporalis.” I originally worried about the type being too small, but he immediately started to peruse it, almost forgetting that we were still there.

We asked if there was anything we could bring him on our next visit. He said whatever the new Koontz was.
Dean Koontz is my favorite “any old time of year” kind of writer. The Bad Place. Absolutely wonderful. The kind of book that makes you want to give up writing. He’s the modern champion suspense writer.

There are some people you just get a vibe about. With Jerry, I just got this feeling that his intentions are good and honorable. He’s blunt, surprisingly spry, and a gentle man. We want to make it part of our “mission” as IHW to visit him at least once a month.

Though next time, I’ve got to remember to bring a lighter.


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Saw

"How can you walk through life pretending that you're happy?" That is the question that apparently only a serial killer can help you answer. Such is the premise of the movie Saw. Saw is either a cynical look at a moral(less) universe or a cynical look at a moral(less) God. The movie sets itself up as Seven meets Phone Booth, being about judgment, atonement, and redemption.

The Jigsaw Killer, as the serial killer is known, sets himself up as God in this universe, and people are expected to play by his rules. He is the ultimate judge. The motivation given to the serial killer is that he is dying, which has given him a unique perspective and appreciation for life. The ultimate sin, in his universe, is to squander the gift of your life. He goes about, sitting in judgment of others, until he finds subjects guilty of wasting their lives. He then puts them in elaborate scenarios, forcing them to reflect on their lives and the gift they've been given, and then he makes them pay for their sin. The one victim to have escaped goes as far as to say "He helped me."

The atonement takes the form of the victim being punished for his sin by, in one way or another, mirroring that sin. Free will is reduced to two choices, a series of either-ors: do something horrible to someone else or let something horrible happen to you. There is no morally good option (unless you count self-mutilation) only the lesser of two evils. I won't be more specific with the choices --believe me, you don't want to hear their grisly choices-- other than to say that Dr. Gordon has to do something drastic or else his wife and child will be killed. And that the movie is titled Saw for a reason. If you don't play by the "rules," you are punished, then forced back into the game. In this mad display of twisted morality, the victims have to make atonement -to cover over, often with the blood of a sacrifice- their sin. The sin, or role to play in order to escape, isn’t as clear for Adam (the other man in the scenario), though he seems to be guilty of smoking.

"How did I get here? I had everything in perfect order," Dr. Gordon says, echoing the sentiment we have when we find ourselves at the end of our downward spiral into sin. His series of compromises started with innocent flirtation and ended with him in a seedy hotel with a woman other than his wife. In a lot of ways, the movie both wants to be the movie Seven but also throw you off by not being the movie Seven. The Jigsaw killer seems to be preaching a message of being grateful for the life that you have, and his schemes play out like an extreme version of scared straight. Only in the realization of gratitude does one find redemption.

The movie doesn't quite work. First off, you don't really come to care about the characters; in fact, the more they try to characterize them, the less you like them. Second, the movie suffers from what I call "the curse of the red herring," by which I mean that it doesn't play fair. There are point-of-view tricks (who's doing the watching?) that make for holes in logic. The director's decision to employ speeded up and shaken camera sequences distracted rather than added to the atmosphere, and especially didn't work during the climax. And because we live in the age of the trick ending, writers and directors go for ever more implausible endings in order to attain the twist. The movie is a series of narrative tricks --over plot and characterization-- that leaves you feeling toyed with and cheated.

Like a flawed version of Seven, this movie is an examination of using immoral means to a moral end. Those drawn in by the advertising poster may be a little disappointed, but it does have some effectively creepy moments to it.